Schoolboys in Da House
by DIY Sheep
Summary: Cuddy grabbed the offending miscreant by the ear. He made a noise that could only be described as an 'erp': More drama ensues...
1. Chapter 1

That was it, she thought: Doctor Fielding looked as if he was about to faint.

She marched over and grabbed the offending miscreant by the ear. House made a noise that could only be described as an 'erp', but helplessly followed the tug on his ear as he was dragged from his seat.

Ignoring the gasps of astonishment, she dragged him to the back of the room and without removing her grip on his ear she grabbed a spare chair and thunked it down facing the corner. Then she did the same with House.

House opened his mouth to start whining, but Cuddy quickly moved in and grabbed his shoulders, putting her mouth right next to his ear.

'If you move before I say you can, breathe too loudly, snigger or even cough: I will triple your clinic hours for a month… and your Gameboy will end up at the bottom of the Jersey,' she whispered viciously.

At the mention of the Gameboy House froze.

She quickly frisked his pockets and relieved him of the Gameboy and the portable TV. 'Sit. Stay, and be good,' she commanded as she reached round and took his cane.

As she returned to her seat she heard a faint smattering applause and the speaker, Doctor Jennings, smiled at her before he continued with his speech.

An hour he sat there. Sent to the corner: no Gameboy, no Wilson, no talking; just sitting listening to Jennings drone on and on about his 'advances' in pediatric medicine – oh for Christ sake, they were kids. Of course they felt happier with a few stuffed bears around. No wonder he and Wilson had passed the time discussing hookers.

He knew he was in trouble. He had seen Fielding turn puce. Maybe that last comment about that hooker who could shoot ping-pong balls hadn't been such a great idea. Wilson had laughed of course, but then Wilson was a push over. All he needed was the right guide and he could easily be lead astray – and leading Wilson astray was House's mission in life.

But now he was trapped. In a corner – literally – with no cane, no diversions and no escape from his very annoyed boss. Well it served her right for making him come anyway; he snorted to himself (silently, as he had seen the mad gleam in her eye and didn't want to tempt fate concerning the Gameboy) and waited for the inevitable.

…….

Dr Cuddy smiled at the last of the crowd as they filed out then looked at the cane in her hand: Right. Someone needs a good caning.

Wilson was leaning up against the wall, his legs crossed – trying to look innocent. He'd tried to escape by using a group of gastroenterologists as cover, but she had pulled him up and sent him to wait by House. Cuddy vaguely thought she heard House growling, but obviously the threat to his Gameboy was keeping him from biting.

'So what's the sentence,' he said resignedly to the corner as she put his cane in front of him.

'Twelve extra next week.'

House twisted his head round and looked mournfully at Wilson. 'A hanging judge.' Wilson sniggered.

'And you can stop looking so smug. An extra six hours for you,' said Cuddy.

At this Wilson spluttered to life. 'Why me,' he said pointing at House. 'It was his fault. He was the one making all the… you knows and the other you knows.' Wilson began to make odd gestures resembling balloons.

'But you are a big grown up oncologist, and you do not play along when he starts making… (She started mimicking Wilson's shapes)… those sort of shapes.'

She dropped her hands in exasperation. 'Especially at a conference that I am running at the hospital.' She paused for emphasis. 'That I am running.'

'Both of you – to your offices now. And do some work,' she said as she pointed to the door. 'And no sneaking back to raid the buffet.' Cuddy made for the door. 'You are banned from the reception,' she said over her shoulder as she left them alone in the empty conference room.

House smirked. 'Busted too.' He heaved himself to his feet. 'We'd better do as she says before she comes back.'

Wilson looked back at him in shock: 'You… actually are going to follow Cuddy's orders? Who is this pod person House and what have you done with my friend.'

House winked at him. 'I have a plan.'

………

After leaving the party Cuddy took the elevator the fourth floor to see if her boys were behaving themselves… and they were - for once. Amazingly they hadn't skived off for pizza and beer: House was in his office and two doors down Wilson was in his. They looked like they were doing work, but you could never be sure with House. Although that net nanny she had had installed on House's computer was a god send, she thought.

Satisfied she went on her way. Miracles would never cease.

House kept one eye on the mark while he picked up the phone:

'She's gone?'

'So I don't have to look busy anymore?' asked his co-conspirator.

'Nope – it's nibbly central.'

……..

They ambled down to the reception.

House leaned on his cane as he careered round to face Wilson, his face lighting up. 'All the drug reps we can insult and all the nibblies we can eat and we are free from Dr Dragon Lady…' he said. He wheeled around and came face to face with Dr Cuddy and stopped short.

'Ah.'

'Doctor Dragon certainly is a lady killer,' said Wilson stupidly. 'As you were just saying.'

But Cuddy was not impressed. 'And what were you two doing down here?' she asked.

House just hung his head and stared at his Nikes. He knew the game was up.

But the boy wonder oncologist always looked on the bright side. 'I forgot my clip board,' lied Wilson gamely.

'Your clip board?' asked Cuddy incredulously.

'Yes, the board… with the clips,' he stammered.

House sighed. Wilson had never been good at this sort of thing. He was in for it.

House grabbed Wilson and started to pull him away. 'We will just come back for it later,' he said.

They nearly made it. They got all the way to the end of the corridor before she struck.

'Oh - House.'

Both men froze in their tracks at her tone. House turned slowly around to see her pointing at the ground in front of her. Like a puppy who knows it is going to get whapped on the nose with a rolled up newspaper, he very slowly limped back to Cuddy, his leg dragging behind him and his head down.

He stopped before her and looked up at her with his best soulful and expectant look.

'Oh cut that out,' she snapped.

House deflated. 'How many more,' he asked.

'Another six I think.'

Nothing

'Well?'

'Yes,' he said with a sigh.

'Yes what?'

'Yes M'am.' This time it was more of a mumble.

Cuddy smirked. 'You may go.'

……

As they left House thumped Wilson with his cane. 'It's all your fault you know.'

Wilson raised his eyebrows. 'Me, what did I do?'

House shook his head in disgust. 'Oh please – "my board – with the clips",' he said rolling his eyes. 'You are not skilled in this art young padawan. But teach you I will,' he said as they continued down the corridor.

'And you'll make me pay for those extra clinic hours,' asked Wilson.

'You betcha,' said House with a smile. 'And the pizza. I'm hungry.'


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't even look up from her paper work. She didn't need to. She had a built in radar for big scruffy limping doctors trying to sneak past her.

'House, assume the position.'

He stopped in his tracks and sighed theatrically but put down his cane and leant spread eagled with his hands against the wall of the clinic, winking at the astonished patients as she came over and frisked him.

'Doctors and nurses like to play cops and robbers,' he said to a bewildered passing lady as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She smiled apologetically at the lady. 'Official hospital procedure when dealing with maniacs,' she said as she pulled out a copy of TV Guide, TV Week and People that he had hidden in the back of his waistband.

He looked down at the floor. 'Busted huh?'

She whacked him around the back of his head with the magazines. 'Just get in there and do some work.'

….

Every day after that she frisked him. She never found anything. But every afternoon she would find him secreted away with a lollipop and a magazine.

Where was he getting this stuff? She looked thoughtfully at People. Where? Across the hall she spied Wilson, coming in and… looking furtive.

She had her answer. House could bluff his way into Fort Knox, but Wilson was a powder puff. He looked as guilty as hell.

'Oh Doctor Wilson,' she called sweetly. 'Could I have a word?'

'I didn't,' be blurted.

'Didn't what?'

'Didn't anything.'

She sighed. 'Just hand them over.'

He blushed and pulled out the contraband.

She looked at him.

'He made me do it,' said Wilson.


	3. Chapter 3

"You yelled at me," he said, not taking his eyes of the TV.

"Yes I yelled at you," Wilson sighed. "I always yell at you. It is just that half the time you don't notice."

"But it wasn't even my fault. If Jesus wants to go walkies I can't stop him."

"I was mad."

House turned and gave him a piercing glare. "That's only because you were doing her. Bro's before ho's man."

"Well maybe if you put out more… And she has a bed… and she doesn't steal everything I make for lunch," suggested Wilson.

"So if I slept with you… and didn't make off with your lunch?" he paused thoughtfully. "I do have a double bed." He looked over. "But Doctor Wilson, what will people say?" he asked sarcastically. "The love that dare not speak its name."

"It's not like they all don't think it already."

"They think that!" House snorted in astonishment. "Just because we hang around together all the time and I stole your macadamia nut pancakes and called them 'little slices of heaven'…"

"You really called them 'little slices of heaven'?"

"Well they were…" he broke off. "Oh God no wonder everyone thinks we are making goo goo eyes at each other over the balcony wall."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't suggestively slide over my wall quite so often," he continued in a sharper tone. "… And interrupt me when I am with patients," he said pointedly.

"I didn't want to ogle _you_. I just wanted to complain about God-botherers – and you were handy… like a spanner or multi-purpose tool or something."

"Oh you so want me."

"That totally explains why you got Lady to rearrange my closet."

"Well… before you couldn't even 'get anything out of it', let alone 'come out of it' – and I needed somewhere to hang my shirts.

"That's it. I am going to find a new best friend. Him," he said pointing.

"The man is in a coma," Wilson pointed out.

"He is like John Wayne," House said petulantly. "The strong silent type."

But Wilson wasn't paying attention anymore. He was looking past House. "Uh Oh," he said gesturing to the door.

A very irritable and annoyed Cuddy was standing in the doorway. Her wrath (pronounced wroth) directed at House.

"Hi Doctor Cuddy. Wilson has come out of the closet," said House brightly. Wilson gaped. "My closet to be specific."

"That's nice," she said oblivious. "House, we talked about Mr Verninsky before didn't we."

"Who?" asked House.

Cuddy sighed in frustration. "The Coma Guy," she clarified.

She came in and waved a finger under his nose. "And we talked about how you don't use him for experimental techniques, you don't give him migraines and you leave him alone generally."

"But I wasn't doing anything to him," protested House.

She leaned down and looked him in the face. "If I find you using him as a tray table one more time I am gonna…" she broke off in frustration as she tried to think of something suitably mean.

"You're gonna what?" asked House suggestively.

"You're gonna confiscate every single toy in his office," cut in Wilson.

House looked at him horrified, as if to say 'how could you betray me like that?' "No."

Wilson nodded sadistically. "Even the ball."

"Not the ball," squeaked House.

"The ball," confirmed Wilson.

He looked over to Cuddy, who only smiled. "Even the ball."

House gathered up his rubbish and patted the sleeping man. "Seeya big guy. It seems I am stuck with 'closet man' for the time being," he said as he shot Wilson a dirty look and tried to slink out of the room.

"House…"

He stopped, but didn't turn around. "I know, I know – more punishment hours. I'll be there tomorrow morning, ready to tend the hypochondriacs and the runny noses."

She smiled evilly at him. "And if I hear one complaint from one patient, the ball gets it."

He turned and looked at her, shocked. "You really are an evil fiend."


	4. Time out

"Wilson, hold the elevator," said House as he limped at full tilt toward him. "You have to save me from…"

"House," yelled Cuddy. "You can't escape me. You are not going anywhere near that patient. I will…" but her words were cut off as the elevator doors shut.

Wilson put his hand over his eyes. "What," he said painstakingly. "Did I just get involved in?"

House smirked. "I am Doctor Kimble. I'm on the run – searching for the one armed man who killed my wife."

"Oh God," was Wilson's only response.

"Oh relax. I'll just give her a little time to calm down and then I'll sneak back in to the patient and whammo – one LP coming up."

"You know the words 'whammo and LP don't usually sit well in the same sentence," remarked Wilson. "Do you think she is going to be ok after the whole tick thing. You nearly got clobbered – again."

"Yeah, she'll be fine. She loves me deep down."

Just then the hospital intercom interrupted them. 'Will all security please be on the look out for Doctor Gregory House. He is described as tall, wearing a dark blue jacket and brown trousers, scruffy looking and carries a cane. Will any medical staff who see Doctor House please report his whereabouts to security'.

Wilson looked at House and smiled. "She'll be fine huh?" He snorted. "Does that mean I have to turn you in?" he asked sweetly as he reached for his pager.

House waggled his cane under Wilson's nose. "Hey buster. I am armed and dangerous."

"The whole hospital will be looking for you now. And tall scruffy looking men with canes aren't all that inconspicuous."

House's eyes lit up. "But - I - know every nook and cranny of this hospital – and I can limp like the wind."

Just then another call came through. 'Would Doctor Wilson please report to Doctor Cuddy's office immediately'.

The elevator door opened and after a furtive look to make sure the coast was clear House stepped out. "You grass me up and you're a dead man Jimmy the Onc." And with that he was gone leaving a bewildered Wilson standing in the elevator.

….

He grinned at his own cleverness. He should have gone into crime he would have made a great criminal genius. The coast was clear. He turned the corner and ran slap bang into Cuddy. She was standing there with her arms folded.

"About time you got here."

House could only splutter and point. "But how did you… no one… secret..." he gurgled.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "You think you know your way around this hospital? I am the administrator," she said with a smile. "I knew you would come by this way. It was only a matter of time."

House tried to regain some of his snark. "Oh yeah, and what are you going to do about it?" he asked petulantly.

She put her hand to her cheek and mock thought for a second. "I think you need a little time out. Someplace quiet. Someplace relaxing. Someplace secure. Someplace on the third floor."

House's eyes widened as he realized what she meant. "No way – you can't." But it was too late. He turned but the two security guards who had been creeping up grabbed his arms and began to pull him backwards.

Cuddy smiled evilly and plucked the cane out of his hand. "It's just until the patient gets transferred then I'll let you out… maybe."

…..

Many hours later:

He was so furious he didn't even look at her. He just grabbed the cane she held out and walked out of the room without a glance, stomping his way down the hall with exaggerated thumps of his cane.

"Are you 'a fugitive from a chain gang' now or were you paroled?" asked Wilson. House said nothing. He just slammed the door, sat on the exam table and stared at the floor.

Wilson continued. "You're lucky. You got to sit back and relax. I got sent to the clinic all day for 'aiding and abetting the enemy' as Cuddy called it." Wilson snorted. "And the worst part was that I was actually innocent." He pointed a finger at the sulking House. "You think you've got it bad. Try being your friend."

"She locked me up," he exclaimed. "All day. In the psych ward!" House was practically bristling with indignation. "Do you know how boring it is to be locked up?"

"Well you have more experience of it than I do," said a bemused Wilson as he watched House slide off the bed and begin to pace. "But I presume you spent the day pacing up and down and yelling at the nurses to let you out."

House stopped and gave him an evil look. "Nurses are traitorous bastards," he muttered darkly. He continued pacing. "When I get hold of her I'm gonna fill her car with toothpaste and loosed all her buttons so they pop off at board meetings and… and… and…"

"Do your clinic hours?" came a voice from the door. The two men turned to see Cuddy standing there looking smug. She looked at her watch. "There is still an hour to go till the clinic closes. Thanks for volunteering Doctor House." She turned to go. "I'm sure you'll find it more stimulating than the rest of your day was – oh and by the way you can pick up your Gameboy from my office at the end of the week." Then with a smile she left.

House just stared after her in amazement. "Wilson, shoot me now."

"Why House."

"That…" he jerked a finger at Cuddy's retreating back. "That she-devil has bested me every time lately. I have spent more time in this clinic in the last six months than I did in the first seven years of my tenure." He turned to Wilson, his eyes wide with fear. "I am losing it. They other day I hid in a broom closet to avoid her."

"You always hide in broom closets to avoid Cuddy," said Wilson rationally.

House waggled his hands frantically. "Yes, but before it was because it was fun and it freaked out the janitors. This time I could practically hear the chains jangling in her hands."

Okay maybe House was losing it, thought Wilson. "Chains?"

House's eyes were wide. "She will chain me to an exam room. She's threatened to do it. I'll die here," he said mournfully as he sat on the exam table. "Alone and unloved. Surviving on a diet of tongue depressors and lollipops, but not the tasty red lollipops – the nasty orange ones," he continued getting caught up in his martyr-esque fantasy. "She'll come in one day and find a skeleton next to my cane. Then she'll be sorry."

Maybe the psych ward wasn't so far fetched, thought Wilson. "House, when was the last time you ate? Or slept for that matter," he asked.

House looked blearily at his watch, which Wilson knew perfectly well had broken three weeks ago. "I dunno. What day is it?"

"Right you…" he said as he picked himself up. "Home, food and rest." He gathered House up by the scruff of his jacket and frog marched him out the exam room.

He nodded to Cuddy as they passed. "Doctors House and Wilson check out," he said at her annoyed look. "I'll deposit him first thing in your office tomorrow. Then you can do what you want with him." He smiled to himself as he lugged his friend out the door.

"But for now this little boy is overtired and needs to go to bed."


	5. Chapter 5

He came barreling in without knocking as usual, opened his mouth to start yelling then stopped. He'd noticed it.

She waited.

He peered down at her desk. "What's that for?"

"What does it look like?"

"I can see what it looks like. The question is: what's it doing there and why does it have my name on it?"

"Waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"The right time."

"You wouldn't," he said looking down at her.

"Try me," she calling his bluff.

Then she smiled. "So what did you want to see me about?" She asked innocently.

…

Every time after that he would give it an uneasy glance here and there. She was pleased. As a deterrent it seemed to be working.

…

He didn't remember this balcony from before. That must have been the Ketamine messing with him, but by gee it was fun. Grapes, spitballs, paper airplanes aimed at Nurse Brenda's head – the world was his oyster.

Then he had the greatest idea in the world. Better than those little packets with the dippie cheese and the crackers in the same packet. They were good, but this was inspired: Gravity plus water plus administrator.

He knew Cuddy was around there somewhere. Shesh – some days you couldn't miss her outfits (when had she visited Bavaria?) and this one was particularly spectacular – a racey low cut pink number. He waited, poised, like an eagle searching for his prey. Today he would find out if it really was an under wire…

…

He saw a shock of pink and poured. Whoo hoo – wet T-shirt competition time.

Bullseye, he thought. Shock and awesomeness of his awesomeness. But his heart leapt as he realised the target was not the intended victim, but friendly fire. A little old lady was looking up at him in amazement.

Uh, oh… time to bail. He needed an escape plan. He instinctively made for the stairs. He stopped. He looked at them and then at his cane. He'd forgotten that once again steps were a thing of the past. He'd remembered running up them not two months ago. Leaving big fat Wilson breathing his dust. Because he, House, could run again. 24 steps. It may as well as been Mount Everest now.

By then it was too late. He heard the cries: "The guy with the bucket," yelled one. Damn, first rule – ditch the evidence. And the security guards grabbing him. Cuddy's furious commands: "Him, my office – now, and make sure he stays there." But even as he was dragged away he couldn't stop thinking about the stairs.

…

They had been sitting there, on Cuddy's couch, all three of them, for a good half hour now.

"Hey guys, think you can let go of my collar now?" he tried.

No response.

"Thought not," he said and went back to staring at the yellow bucket on the table in front of him.

…

When Cuddy and the other woman entered Cuddy's office the two security guards stood up and therefore House, trapped between them, did so also.

The little old lady he had doused seemed no worse for wear. In fact she looked quite good in scrubs he thought – better than she had in that pink number. Better not mention that he thought. This is apology time. He should look penitent.

Cuddy did the introductions.

"This is Mrs Wetherington, as in the Wetherington Wing," she said pointedly.

Oh shit – that Mrs Wetherington.

"Hi, Mrs Wetherington, I'm Doctor House." He tried to move forward, but he was held immobile so ended up merely extending a hand.

Cuddy nodded to the security guards. "It's okay. I have him from here." They cast wary glances, but followed her instructions.

"We'll be outside," said one, casting a menacing glance at House. She was sure one of them cuffed him surreptitiously on the back of the head as he left.

They stood there, the yellow bucket between them, the smoking gun. Or in this case – the still wet bucket.

"Well," said Cuddy.

"I'm sorry Mrs Wetherington. You just got caught in the cross fire," he said at last. "I was playing a stupid prank on Cuddy… ah Doctor Cuddy… I just wanted to see if she would melt like the Wicked Witch of the West like everyone says."

"House," yelled Cuddy, but Mrs Wetherington just smiled.

"Is this the one you were telling me about dear," she said to Cuddy.

What 'one' thought House.

Cuddy sighed resignedly. "Yes, this is the one."

Mrs Wetherington turned to House and smiled. "Well then my dear – plan B into action."

"Plan B," said House uncertainly.

The two women smiled evilly at him.

Oh shoot.

…

House was stomping through the clinic, his left hand firmly planted under his right armpit. Wilson could practically see the little cartoon thundercloud above his head. Patients and nurses alike scattered before him. He considered finding out what happened, but wisely decided to wait a while – and to be on the safe side also bring food before poking the limping bear.

…

Ten minutes later he gingerly opened the door to House's office and peered inside, waggling a packet of chips.

"That isn't going to help," came the reply from the dark 'House likes to brood here' corner.

"So what happened? I got most of it from security. They were delighted for the chance to manhandle you by the way," he said as he came in and sat down opposite House.

"She whapped me with a ruler," he whined pathetically.

Wilson did a double take, then laughed. "You were asking for it, weren't you?" He gestured. "Come on – give it here."

"Maybe?" Said House, but put out his hand. "Can I sue her?"

"Cough… fun bags… cough," he said as he inspected House's left palm. "If you fight dirty, she gets to fight dirty."

House looked a bit dejected. "Oh yeah."

"It just seems a little red. In my medical opinion you will be fine." He paused. "How many did you get anyway?"

House put his hand under his armpit again. "Six - of the best. And Jesus – her tennis must be fantastic nowadays, what with that arm. They stung," he said miserably.

Wilson snorted. "So now she doesn't thrash you at tennis anymore, she just thrashes you."

House glared daggers at him. "She never thrashed me at tennis. Her backhand sucked, but I have to admit it might be getting better."

"Well it was your fault. You took advantage of the balcony."

"Only because it looked so tempting." House sighed. "But that isn't the worse part. I have to take my two weeks annual leave and I have to volunteer to do them in the clinic."

House looked desperately at Wilson. "All day, every day." He looked as if he was going to cry.

Wilson winced. "Ouch. You shouldn't have got caught."

"I tried to run away."

"I'm sure you did."

"But there were stairs."

It was a simple statement, but it said so much.

Stairs. They both knew what that meant. In their own ways both men hated them with a passion.

"Oh."

They sat there for a while. Wilson staring out the window and House looking down at his feet.

Eventually Wilson said. "I would say pizza and beer, but that would be clichéd."

House raised his head. "I like clichéd."

They both smiled, then House grimaced again and wiggled the hand under his armpit.

Wilson laughed.

"You uncaring bastard," but House was laughing too.

"Next time, don't pour a bucket of water on some rich hospital benefactor octogenarian huh?" Wilson looked at him in hope. "Do it for me?"

House looked at him intently. "You know me," he said deadpan. He smirked. "Fat chance."


End file.
